I've got questions
by SwordStitcher
Summary: Switch is stuck in Arkham and in the middle of a rogues game. It's time to choose or die and she really doesn't want to die.
1. Abducted

A/N: Switch, Meet Nigma. Nigma's going to torture the life outta you.

Typical disclaimer, I own Dead Switch, no-one else.

* * *

Singed. Again. Cuffed. Again. On her way to Arkham. _Again. _

Switch reconsidered this whole criminal thing. Maybe it was best if she just gave up trying to plunge Daggett Industries so far into the floor that it surfaced in Australia.

She settled herself into the seats of the cop car she was currently riding in. The cops up in front weren't even talking. Normally cops gossiped nonstop but these two clowns were silent.

Whatever. She probably smelled horrendous. Burning hair was particularly fragrant. They were probably holding their noses and flooring it to the asylum.

Switch found the first hints of wrongness when they turned off the main road and into the narrows. Then the door locks disengaged.

Her hands were cuffed behind her back but she still struggled against them as the cops opened the door to haul her out.

She wasn't going to ask what was going on, she had a few ideas about why they'd stopped in the narrows and they weren't nice. So the first cop that came within striking distance got kicked in the face.

He flew back with a scream of rage but caught her next attack and yanked. She planted another foot into the doorframe as his partner cursed and came over to help, he grabbed the other leg and they finally succeeded in pulling her from the car.

Her head rattled on the cold cobbles and she could taste blood where she'd accidentally bitten down as she impacted. One cop flipped her over and pinned her down with a knee between the shoulder blades.

Oh here it goes, bent cop, female prisoner, rape and murder.

She didn't expect the needle that was jabbed into her neck, but it didn't take long for it to start taking effect either. In her terror, the effects seemed almost instantaneous.

* * *

Switch came to with a start. Her throat felt dry, her head felt stuffy.

She was tied to a chair, that much was obvious, they'd tied her a bit too tightly, it hurt to breathe. It took her some time to get her bearings. The warehouse was pitch black and the only reason she'd worked out she was in a warehouse was the faint lap of waves over wood and the slight echoes of the sheet metal. That said The Docks.

She groaned as her vision pitched. What _had_ they given her? She felt awful.

'Ah you're awake.'

Someone stepped into the low light, she glanced up at the figure and groaned again, but this one had more to do with terror than the after effects of the drug. A tailor made pinstripe suit, bright green of all things, the question marks, the cane.

Edward Nigma. The Riddler.

'Fucking clown…' She grunted. She just knew Joker and Harley were the reason Nigma was here. Was it not bad enough that they _kidnapped_ her from processing a year ago, forced her to play a game of Russian roulette with bombs and then incriminated her in _everything_? Since then, she'd been in Arkham twice more.

They'd testified. _Testified_ at her trial that she'd willingly done all those screwed up things and joined in the insanity of her own violation. Hanging around the clown and his girlfriend was possibly the most insane thing anyone could do and the judge was only just too happy to deem her absolutely insane.

'Well, conscious to conclusion in under a minute. I'm impressed.'

Scenarios danced in her head, of revenge best served by Riddler and inventive traps to kill her. Was Joker that mentally unstable? Of course he was. Nigma had all but confirmed that clown had told him where to find her.

'What's going on?' She slurred. 'Were the drugs really necessary?'

'Now, I'm not so impressed.' Nigma's smile fell. 'But we might as well go through with it since we took the time to kidnap you.'

'We?' She latched onto the multiple in that statement.

Another figure stepped into the light. She knew this one too, she hardly needed to see his mask clutched in one fist. The wavy hair, the unsettling blue eyes, and the canister gave it away.

'Aw not that…' She knew where this was heading. She did not want to be gassed. Did not want to see a warped version of hell.

The stories about Crane's gas almost exceeded the man himself. There was one where the guy had gouged out his own eyeballs and another where the man had killed his wife, believing her to be a changeling. Crane's gas was evil, and the man loved nothing more than donning the mask as his victims began to sweat and making it _that much more terrifying._

Riddler suddenly brightened. 'Lets start with a riddle, an easy one, I promise. _**The more of them you take, the more you leave behind**_**.' **

Switch tried to pull her frantic senses together to work on it, but that was difficult when Scarecrow was waving that canister at her.

'Thirty seconds.' Riddler had his watch up, counting the seconds.

'You never said I had a time limit!' She wailed.

'No…I didn't. Fifteen seconds.' He laughed.

She tried to pull herself together and think. She needed to think.

'Ten.'

Oh god this was so hard under pressure.

'Nine.'

Why did Joker have to abduct her?

'Eight.'

Think Switch.

'Seven.'

She needed an answer.

'Six.'

'She should have just walked away from Harley. She should have- Wait…

'Five.'

'It's footsteps.' She sighed and prayed she was right. Of course if she wasn't she was dead. Nigma didn't suffer fools, he exterminated them.

For a second Nigma's blue eyes were searing into her skin, as though they were daring her to change her answer.

'Correct.' He said at last.

She slumped back in relief.

'Round two!' Riddler said delightedly.

'WHAT?!' Switch screeched. The chair wobbled alarmingly as she struggled against the restraints. Riddler leaned on his cane, a smirk riding high.

'Go ahead Jonny.'

Scarecrow sighed and pulled the mask down. 'You owe me.' He said to the grinning green-clad man. Switch had just enough time to suck in a breath before he sprayed her.

'Well, that's not particularly smart, or inventive.' Riddler mused. 'Eventually, you're going to have to breathe.'

Crap. She realised he was right. She was already desperate for oxygen, but she was also entirely more desperate to avoid her worst nightmare.

She'd had numerous nightmares that involved him and they always left her a quivering mess. They were even more frequent and more terrifying than the zombie nightmares.

Ever since their little encounter she found she couldn't even pass one anymore.

She was going to pass out if she didn't breathe. She had to breathe.

The toxin tickled the back of her parched throat as she gulped, much to Riddler's happiness.

'What do you fear?' Nigma wondered.

'That, is my line Edward.' Scarecrow scolded him. 'Now you're stealing my damn lines.'

'Oh don't be such a killjoy Jon.' Nigma waved his protests away. 'It's starting to work.' He pointed out.

For a moment, nothing happened, but the minute she blinked, Scarecrow and Riddler weren't there anymore. It was Joker and Harley.

She knew it wasn't real, it couldn't be real. As far as she was aware, Joker was still safely in Arkham. But it _felt_ real and utterly terrifying.

She felt the clammy sweat begin to break out, felt the world lurch left and right as the toxin screwed with her mind, felt the panic welling more and more as she fought against it.

Joker was laughing, he was always laughing. Even if it wasn't funny, perhaps especially because it wasn't funny. 'Well, someone doesn't look happy to see me Harls.' He grinned and pulled a knife from his sleeve. 'We're going to fix that one Switchy. Lets carve a happy little smile there.'

She felt terror course through her as he stalked closer. 'No... no!' Joker was asking what made her terrified, what monster of the night frightened Switchy. 'No…Please…Joker, no!'

'We'll put it riiiight here.'

She could feel the blood trickling down her face as he carved her mouth open. The pain followed soon after.

She could hear the clown's insane laughter ringing out clearly across the warehouse. She couldn't hold it in anymore, the pain and terror was too much. She screamed.

The pain was intense and utterly terrifying. She struggled against the rope that bound her to the chair as Joker continued to use her like a pincushion. He wasn't going to stop any time soon. He was going to tear her down, chunk by chunk and he wasn't going to make it quick.

Switch couldn't take it anymore. She passed out.

She woke up in the back of the cop car as they passed the gates into Arkham.

The car pulled to a stop and the cops turned to look at her. 'Well sleeping beauty, we're home.'

Was all that a dream?

* * *

And that's chapter one, folks.


	2. Panic!

A/N: CHapter two! That fear gas did more than just show Switch what she really feared. It brought back some unpleasant memories!

_(Insert disclaimer here)_

* * *

The incident with Scarecrow and Riddler had been a little over a month ago and she still shivered whenever she heard their names.

It hadn't taken long to adjust to Arkham again. She wasn't a high level patient like the super-criminals.

She never mentioned the incident to the authorities. For one- Who was going to believe her? Two- That would incriminate a rogue, Riddler no less. Honestly, she was ready to put it down as a dream, until she saw the marks on her wrists from where she'd struggled against toxin Joker.

She'd been sitting in arts and crafts painting a fast wilting vase of flowers when she'd heard the whispers that swept through the demented ears and mouths of the inmates.

_Batman just dropped Riddler and Scarecrow off at Arkham._

Just hearing their names caused her hand to veer suddenly down and the painting she'd been absentmindedly working on was streaked with white paint. Ruined.

She felt her chest tighten in anxiety.

_Not here. They can't be here._

It was at that point that the guards dragged them through the building on the way to intensive treatment.

She watched in apprehension as the guards struggled to contain them the closer they got to the classroom. Nigma suddenly launched himself at the window and it cracked under his shoulder.

Switch jumped, the easel collapsed and paint began to spread across the floor and the canvas.

He was staring right at her.

The patients around her were panicking and retreating into their many psychosis as the guards managed to get the two deadly inmates under control and hurried them away.

Switch slumped and gripped her knees as she focused on breathing. She was not going to do this right now. The pains in her chest that had started at the very mention of their names had kicked into high notch and she suddenly found herself breathless. She didn't want to deal with this now.

'_So, you're the one who freed Harley?'_

'_She sure is Mistah J!'_

_Not now._ She prayed. _Do_ _not have a panic attack now, dammit!_

She was sweating and gulping as she struggled to get her shaking limbs under control. Too late. It was fully blown.

Someone was shouting above the din as they tried to get the class of mentally ill people under control.

She clutched at her jumpsuit as her own airway turned against her and she began to feel like she was suffocating.

'_I call them giggling gas bombs! Everyone's going to just __**die**__ laughing!'_

'Someone get a doctor in here. Now!'

_Don't pass out. Do not pass out. The last thing you want is to end up in medical. Control your breathing dammit!_

She wasn't getting control of it; it was too far gone for control.

The door to the classroom banged open and she felt an oxygen mask being slipped over her face.

She was helped somewhat onto the gurney and wheeled down to medical for observation.

The doctors in medical had done a few routine checks, but they believed her when she assured them it had only been a panic attack. It wasn't life threatening and they needed the beds; Batman's sudden arrival had quite the effect on their patients.

Violence and self-harm abounded in his wake on the island. They issued her some anti-anxiety and sleeping pills when she told them she was having trouble getting good sleep.

After the incident with the fear gas, she found her dreams often became nightmares and she was terrified to nod off. Now she was practically the same with Riddler! She needed to get a handle on this. Rogues were sensitive to fear in the same way that sharks could smell blood.

It was the gas, she knew it. It had stirred up a hornet's nest of emotions and thoughts she'd forced away and buried deep. She hated Crane.

She stretched out on the narrow, slightly lumpy mattress and rolled over.

Maybe the loony bin was the right place for her.

But he had been staring right at her, she was sure of it. She was also sure that the whole window breaking thing was just to get her attention.

It was not good to come to the attention of someone that dangerous. She'd barely made it away from Joker and he'd still found a way to screw her over.

Every time she saw him she hyperventilated! And now it started with Riddler too.

The patient a few doors up had apparently committed suicide.

The one next door had taken up the art of screaming in the early hours. Switch had only just gotten used to the routine again.

She still didn't know why Nigma had abducted her, or why he felt the need to gas her. Maybe she was just paranoid. Why would a Rogue be interested in her? She was basically what they stepped on in pursuit of Batman after all.

Well that wasn't a comforting thought.

She rolled over and curled into a ball. There was the mandatory psychiatric assessment tomorrow; they would be concerned if she told them she was paranoid Riddler was out to get her. They were bound to put her on some weird drug. It was better to just deal with it herself.

After all, what could they do to her in Arkham? There were guards everywhere, they were watched 24/7 and she heard that the warden had just installed an electrical floor in Intensive Treatment.

No. There was no way Riddler or Scarecrow was getting out of there. She was safe.

But there was someone who could help her, he was in Arkham and he'd been through a vaguely similar scenario. Freis had blasted his nose and lips clean off.

She could go to him and ask him how he dealt with the sudden onslaught of panic attacks.

And she slept – With some help- the best she had in weeks, confident that they weren't going to escape.


	3. Assessed

A/N: It's been a while since I updated this and I know I promised Shark, he'll be in the next one. Right now, Switch has an assessment.

* * *

'This is Doctor Gretchen Whistler with patient number two, six, zero, zero, four. Deborah Swain. Also known as Dead Switch.'

Whistler turned to look at her, sat in the damn chair. Her hands had been left free, mainly because she never showed violent tendencies.

'Now Deborah, the doctors in medical tell me you've had trouble sleeping, you've been seen acting erratic since your re-admittance.'

'Just adjusting.' She shrugged and ran a hand up and down her arm.

'They tell me you had a panic attack after Mr Nigma launched himself at the window of your classroom.'

The mention of Riddler's name caused her to flinch. A flashback to the warehouse.

'_You never said I had a time limit!' She wailed. _

'_No…I didn't. Fifteen seconds.' He laughed. _

'Deborah. Deborah!' She snapped out of it and looked up.

Whistler sat back. 'Do you have a problem with Mr. Nigma?' She asked softly.

'No!'

Whistler gave her a piercing look.

'Perhaps we should consider some sedati-'

'I really don't have a problem with…Mr. Nigma…' She grit out. 'He just…He just caught me off guard.' Switch replied.

'_What do you fear?' Nigma wondered._

_Concentrate!_ She forced herself back into the office and back into the conversation as Whistler was watching her.

'Really?'

'Honestly doc.' Switch smiled.

Frantic knocks began at the door and it was slammed open, Switch tried her absolute hardest to remain still as her heart threatened to hammer itself out of her ribcage.

'I'm in session!' Whistler snapped.

'Dr. Whistler.' A guard staggered into the room and gulped. 'You're needed in the cafeteria!'

'Why?'

'Crane's just dumped a canister of gas in the lunch line; we've got thirty patients freaking out!'

Whistler swore. 'Take miss Swain back to her cell. This session is going to have to be postponed.'

As she was escorted out and into the cell block, they could hear the hysterics in the cafeteria. People were moaning, screaming, freaking out and yelling. But the worst thing, the worst thing was hearing Crane's laugh. He was actually enjoying this.

She heard the guards that weren't affected by the gas drop issuing orders and shouting for him to stand down, Whistler was talking over them, also encouraging him to stop.

'Keep moving.' The guard shoved her and she was forced to leave the sounds behind.

Back in her cell, she leaned against the cold door and breathed.

_Another figure stepped into the light. She knew this one too; she hardly needed to see his mask clutched in one fist. The wavy hair, the unsettling blue eyes, and the canister gave it away. _

'_Aw not that…' She knew where this was heading. She did not want to be gassed. Did not want to see a warped version of hell. _

Switch took a gulp of air as the familiar tingling began in her chest. This time she was ready for the near panic attack that accompanied the flashbacks.

Her nose twitched and drove all thoughts of fear gas and hemp masks from her mind. There was a smell in here, that hadn't been when she'd left.

It was faint, to be sure. The only reason she'd noticed it was because of her efforts to breathe and avoid a full blown attack.

It was cologne. Expensive cologne.

She'd smelled it before…But where?

'_Well, conscious to conclusion in under a minute. I'm impressed.' _

Her eyes flew open in alarm.

No.

Impossible.

How could he-

Switch scrambled to her feet and looked around the tiny cell, at the various things she had. They had all been moved, only a little. Not enough to notice at a casual glance but the smell made her aware of the changes.

_No. How had he gotten in? How could he have gotten in? He'd been through her stuff. _

Her bed had been moved, the metal had left gouge marks in the bare concrete.

They led to the centre of the room. She looked up and saw a tile askew in the ceiling.

She was so close to having another full blown panic attack, but she had to know, had to find out what was up there.

The bed was solid iron, but easy to move. She pulled the bottom into the middle of the room and stood on it. The tile shifted easily and she reached up to put her hand inside.

_What if it's a trap?_

Her hand jerked to a stop.

_He could have put anything up there, something to mangle your fingers, something to slice your hand open, a canister of fear gas…_

It was too high to stick her head into; Switch was barely five foot six. Nigma was easily six foot.

_Maybe the best thing to do was leave it? No. She wasn't going to sleep until she made sure it wasn't dangerous._

She dithered on her choices for another minute. It was either stick her hand in and maybe have it torn to shreds or she could wait for the possible weapon to get her while she slept. Choices, choices.

Her hand shot into the hole and came back out unmarked and holding a little neon question mark on a stand.

_What?_

Something inside the stand clicked and Nigma's voice filled the room. '_**I make you weak at the worst of all times. I keep you safe, I keep you fine. I make your hands sweat, and your heart grow cold, I visit the weak, but seldom the bold. What am I?**_'

She screamed and threw the trophy away from her. It landed on the other side of her cell. Nigma's tinny laugh reverberated around the room and she crawled into a corner.

He was mocking her; laughing at her fear.

There was no avoiding the panic attack this time.


	4. Shark

A/N: I promised Batty I'd post this, and since I wrote far enough ahead, I feel comfortable to let this out. :)

* * *

Some people compared him to Killer Croc, but Warren White was so much more than that.

He was highly intelligent and articulate and after he was prosecuted for what could loosely be called embezzlement he successfully appealed on insanity grounds.

What his solicitor hadn't told him when he'd proposed the insanity plea, was that he'd be sent to Arkham.

The people in Arkham were worse than any inmate in any other kind of prison. Day and night they shrieked and sobbed and laughed and to his horror, he found himself being led the same way by the people he was surrounded with.

The doctors didn't help, he'd been diagnosed insane purely to escape a lengthy prison sentence, but now – He actually was insane.

He didn't remember the encounter with Freis, couldn't remember what he'd said or done to inadvertently make the man so mad. According to the medical file, he'd been in Freis' cell, which had to be kept absolutely freezing, when Freis had ripped a pipe off the wall and aimed the super chilled gas at his face.

Warren woke up in Medical and when he saw the damage that pipe had done, his personality fractured but he'd retained his brilliance with numbers and his keen sense of opportunity. It hardly hurt his operations when he filed his teeth down and started to refer to himself as Great White Shark.

There had been a time when Switch had considered joining up with his group but numbers had never been her thing. It was all about technology. That didn't mean they weren't on speaking terms.

She had quite a lot of respect for Shark, the man could shake your hand and simultaneously empty your bank account and they would never find the money.

Switch could have learned a lot from him. Especially on how to kill a company with less than a drop of blood shed.

It took another week for her to finally bump into him after he was segregated from the main population and by then she'd had at least three more panic attacks. She needed to deal with this.

'Sharky!' She plopped down on the opposite side of the table and all but discarded the tray of what passed for food in this dump.

For just a second, the two men on either side of him were set to move against her but he waved a hand and they settled back.

'Dead Switch.' He sighed. 'I'm busy.' Everyone but the doctors called her Dead Switch now. It was another way Joker stayed lodged in her head. No matter what she said or did- She was now irrevocably Dead Switch.

His eyes never left the tiny red book in his hands. It was filled with numbers, none of which were apparent to Switch.

He picked up the sandwich on his tray and ripped a chunk of it away.

He may have been busy, but he wasn't actively trying to get rid of her, yet. There was still a chance.

'I need your help.' She finally sighed.

'It's going to cost you.' He muttered around the bites.

'What do you want? Handcuff keys? Information? The guard room locker combination?' She asked.

His eyes fell on her tray. 'Seriously?' She grunted.

'To start with.' He grinned. Those teeth were really freaky. Just thinking about the dental work involved made Switch's teeth tingle in phantom pain.

She slid the tray over to him and watched as he devoured the sandwich she'd grabbed. 'Alright. I'm listening.' He gulped.

'I have a…Problem.' Switch started.

'Everyone does. You've got until I finish eating.' Shark snapped. That hardly surprised her.

'I've…' This was so hard to admit in a world where the slightest weakness could end her. 'I've been having flash backs. I think it might be post-traumatic stress disorder.' She sighed.

'Oh?' Shark finished the sandwiches and practically pounced on dessert. Switch wasn't going to eat the manky jelly unless she was absolutely sure she wanted to commit suicide, but Shark gulped it down.

She felt queasy just watching him eat, watching those teeth work. Last week, she remembered, he'd bitten a guard and Sharp handed him solitary confinement. He'd only just been reintroduced to the population.

Rumour also had it he ran fences and jobs from inside Arkham, from his cell. He was a billionaire twice over and he could rival Bruce Wayne fortune wise. But she needed a different kind of help.

'Crane and Nigma jumped me on my way back.' She sighed. 'Gassed me up to the eyeballs.'

That got a smirk outta Shark. _Dick._

'Now I can't even hear their names without dropping into foetal.' She moaned. 'C'mon Shark, help me.'

'What did the doctors tell you to do?'

'Like I'm going to tell them a thing.' Switch snapped. 'I'm not incriminating a Rogue for love nor money.'

Shark sighed and sat back. 'So what do you need from me?'

'I need you to tell me how to deal with these goddamn panic attacks!'

'Why do you think I know how to deal with that?'

Switch waved a hand at Shark's face, much to his displeasure.

'Freis tried to turn your head into a popsicle man. You can't tell me you didn't have days where even feeling cold jump-snapped you back?'

Shark turned away from her. She could tell she'd upset him, the fire she'd experienced at his lackadaisical attitude soon thawed. She felt bad for her poor choice of words and bringing up his disfigurement so carelessly.

'Look Sharky I'm sorry, I haven't been sleeping, even with those damn pills they gave me.'

'There was no need to be so rude.' He replied coldly and picked up the other pot of jelly.

'I am sorry.' Switch begged him 'And I still need help. C'mon Sharky-'

'I'd help her, Shark; she's going to need it.' The cold voice in her ear was absolutely recognisable to her now and she went to full on panic mode without even passing through the flashbacks.

Her head dropped to the table and her arms wrapped themselves around her as she shuddered and gulped.

Nigma laughed and walked off.

Shark watched her for a moment as she struggled and then he wrote something in that damn red book.

Within minutes she was back in an oxygen mask, being loaded into a gurney.

Her eyes alighted on Shark and Nigma. They were talking. An EMT got in her way and slipped an oxygen mask over her face, when he moved; she noticed they were both staring intently at her as she was wheeled away.


	5. A word of advice

A/N: Ah I get way too much amusement from the consideration of kicking Joker in the stotts. Some things begin to make sense. Horrifying sense.

* * *

Shark cornered her the next day at lunch. His tray hit the table hard and made her jump in alarm.

'Switch.'

'Shark?'

She thought after yesterday Nigma had convinced him not to help her. After the little panic attack she'd had the day before she deduced he knew exactly what kind of fear he was extracting from her and, unfortunately, she was now his favourite toy to provoke.

_Sod it all. _

'You wanted help.' He picked up a questionable sandwich and ripped a chunk from it.

'I...Honestly didn't think you were going to.' She frowned.

'I wasn't.' He gulped down a mouthful and went for another bite. 'But then, you never told me what the flashbacks were about.'

She couldn't possibly tell him that. He did do a lot of business with Joker and Riddler and Rogues loved gossip and games. It would almost be like handing either one a gun and pointing it at her own head.

'Can't tell you that Sharky-'

'Then I can't help.'

'Can't or won't?' Switch demanded.

'Both.'

They sat in silence as people moved around them. Shark was just waiting for her to fold and curse it all; she knew she was going to have to give in because she needed him and his help.

'Alright. It's Joker. You happy?' She snarled.

'Supremely.' He grinned. The little red book came back onto the table and he scribbled something into it quickly.

_Put this on Switchy, you'll look great!'_

_The jumpsuit was covered in blood. 'I don't…I…'_

'_**Wear it.'**_

She forced the panic down as Warren watched her. When did he stop writing in his little book? How long had he been watching?

When he realised she was watching him back he gave a small laugh. 'You're worse than I thought.'

'Fuck you.' She sulked. 'You're meant to be helping.'

'You want some help? Fine I'll help.' Shark started to chuckle to himself. 'I did get flashbacks, mainly in the sudden chill and I got sick of it so I paid a few men to hold the Snowman down and I beat the shit out of him.'

Well…Well that made sense. Once you've beaten someone as low as they can go, you're not scared of them anymore. Then the anxiety might stop. Why hadn't she thought of that?

What the hell was she thinking?! It was Joker! AND Riddler! She couldn't beat the snot out of either of them and expect to survive.

'Oh. Oh sure Shark.' She muttered glumly. 'I'm just going to walk up to Joker and kick him in the stotts but first, I really ought to update my will.' She moaned.

'Not my problem.' Shark was laughing at her. She could see it. Now she remembered why she'd never opted to join his gang.

'You really are a dick Warren White.'

That wiped the smirk off his face. 'You asked for my help.'

Switch ran a hand through her hair in frustration. 'What'm I going to do?' She moaned.

'Well-'

It started suddenly and after the incident last week with Scarecrow, many inmates were hyper sensitive to mood. Trouble had flared up on the other side of the room between Firefly and Deadshot. She heard the _whoomph_ of flames and knew that Firefly had gotten his hands on something flammable.

People began to rush out of the cafeteria as fire and panic spread.

Warren was gone just as suddenly as he'd arrived and Switch decided to follow his lead.

Security was already trying to get control over the stampeding patients but nothing could stop the tide of people running into the grounds.

Switch was thrown out by the crush and she managed to wade her way to the shallows of the mob. She could smell burning fabric and smoke was billowing out of the building as glass shattered.

'How ya doin' Switchy?'

The knife against her throat made it a very bad idea for her to breathe too deeply.

'Joker…' Her voice sounded lost and scared, even to her. There were no flashbacks this time, but she thought she was going to pass out in terror. The anxiety attack was on the cusp of her awareness, just waiting to strike; it was held at bay for now, by survival instinct.

The people around them were patently ignoring the bladed conversation going on. She realised that Joker had orchestrated the entire affair between Deadshot and Firefly like Riddler had organised Scarecrow and the gas drop to give him time and confusion to get into her cell, but Joker wanted time and confusion to get at _her_.

'So, what are you, Riddler's chewtoy now?'

What? What was he talking about?

'I feel so _betrayed_.'

'I don't know what…!' She gasped.

'We had such a memorable time together Switchy, don't tell me you've forgotten?'

She could feel his rancid breath across her face and the greasy make up that rubbed off on her cheek.

Oh god. _Oh god_. She felt like she was going to pass out or have a heart attack. He was going to kill her this time, she was sure of it. Over something she knew absolutely nothing about.

'Just remember whose side you're on here.' Joker giggled into her ear. 'Hey, remember the tanker? That was a hoot!'

Of course she did. She still had nightmares about what might have happened if Batman hadn't have dragged her out and protected her from the explosion.

One crispy fried and very dead Switch.

That had been the end of her adventures with Joker and the start of a whole host of problems with clowns.

Security was getting control of the situation once again and fire-fighters had finally attended to the burning building but even this close to the blaze, Switch felt cold.

The knife retracted and Switch waited at least ten seconds before she turned around and found no-one there, as she'd hoped.

Something was going on. This smelt like a rogue game between Joker and Riddler and Switch got the impression she was an important pawn in whatever was happening.

In the year since Joker had left her to die, not once had he bothered to check that her loyalties were to him. This was all to do with Riddler's sudden interest.

It made sense, in a way.

It was important, absolutely important right now to do the right thing because she may not get another shot if she _was_ caught up in the middle of a rogue's game.

To make a mistake was to die.

First- She needed confirmation. Who was going to have the most information? The bookie. Rogues who weren't involved in the games just loved to take a bet. Who was the bookie? Who-

_Warren's little red book. _Switch recalled. _Full of numbers that meant nothing to her. Every time she saw him, he would observe her and write something. _

_Warren was their bookie._

_I knew he was a dick. He'd been stirring the hornets nest to drive up the odds._

_Super-Criminals. They never played fair. _She felt betrayed but she should have expected it. _Right Warren White, I'm coming to find out my odds._


	6. Assessed part two

A/N: We're back to being poked and prodded by doctors...And Boles. Jokers not really a lackey...lackey.

* * *

She'd been witness to a game or two over the year she'd been in and out of Arkham, and she'd heard all the stories. They were almost as dramatic as the Greek tragedies and perhaps grander on their scale of death.

Few inmates that were caught up inside a game survived, many a time a rogue would selfishly kill the pawn to prevent the other criminal winning. It was a terrifying prospect to think she was now walking that thin line.

After the fire and her little chat with Joker, Switch had been returned to her cell and, normally, she liked the quietness, but her neighbour had begun shrieking at the slightest sound since Switch had broken out and been dragged back. In her current frame of mind, she felt the walls were closing in around her and shrieking patient was giving her a headache.

She kneaded an eye and considered her position. She was now a disputed pawn between two absolutely bonkers super-criminals in their own twisted game.

They both wanted her on their side and were prepared to do anything to keep her out of the others.

If there was anyone who knew a way to survive this, it was going to be Shark. But she needed to catch him alone and she doubted he was going to give up anything easily. He was, after all a super-criminal himself, well known amongst those people. He did not take fright or baulk at anything or anyone.

Well…Maybe not anyone, but certainly someone.

Switch may have lost a lot of things when she went criminal, her job, her health, her family, but she'd kept her sharp mind.

Shark was not afraid of a lot, but she knew he had to be afraid of the very thing that made him. _'I got flashbacks in the sudden chill.'_

What was the coldest place on Arkham besides Freis' cell? The morgue.

The problem was getting him to the morgue. Shark would not be willing to go there; she was going to have to force his hand.

Which was a daunting prospect.

Screaming patient started up again and shattered whatever concentration she had managed to gather.

She heard the locks disengage and her door opened wide. She smelt the drink before she saw him. Boles had arrived with her security escort.

'Come on Deborah, your psychiatric assessment needs to be finished.'

She didn't know why he was here, Boles worked with the high risk patients like Ivy and Croc and…Joker.

Suddenly, his appearance made complete sense.

She found herself back in session with Whistler. Boles was against the far wall, much to Whistler's annoyance.

'Deborah, we didn't get to finish your assessment.' Whistler noted. 'Where were we?'

'Um…Settling in?' Switch muttered.

'Ah yes, you've had several panic attacks over this last month…' Whistler looked up at her in question. She had to think fast.

'My neighbour's been shrieking at night. It's waking me up, I'm jittery.' She replied.

Whistler scribbled something in her file. Switch could only barely read it. _"Shows signs of Avoidant Personality Disorder."_

'I'd like to discuss how you came to be in Arkham, Deborah. When you first arrived, the doctors diagnosed you as…'

'A combination of Somatoform Disorder and Delusional Parasitosis.' Switch grunted.

'You were captured with Joker and Harley Quinn after you broke out of police custody and assisted in their destruction of Gotham?'

'Yes.' Not by choice.

'It was then that you received your nickname was it not?'

'Yes.'

Dead Switch. She had been the dead switch. The minute she was moved from her position inside the tanker, the connection was finished and the fuel was ignited. That was if Joker didn't _"accidentally" _press the detonate button anyway. That had been one of his sick little jokes.

'_Buttons, buttons, I just __**love**__ buttons!'_

No. No. No. Get your head back into the damn session Switch. She's already threatened to put you on tranquilizers.

Whistler was watching her with an air of concern. 'Are you feeling yourself Deborah?' She asked.

'Sleep deprived.' Switch answered.

'How are you settling in?' Whistler asked after a while.

'Fine.' Switch answered shortly. She wanted to get out of here. Away from prying psychologists and drunk guards. She could smell Boles from the other side of the room for god's sakes. Everyone knew he drank on the job.

She wanted to sit in her cell and think.

'Why don't you tell me a little about your first incident Deborah? With Basil Karlo?'

'No.'

'It will help if you just talk-'

'No.' Switch grunted. She stared at Whistler until she was forced to look away. Switch would rather saw off her own arm than discuss that monster and she wanted to make that perfectly clear.

'Well.' Whistler still wasn't looking at her. 'I think that concludes our session, at last. I will see you next week Deborah. Consider opening up about what happened with Mr. Karlo will you?'

Switch didn't even dignify that with a response.

Boles escorted her back to her cell, but they paused in the corridor to let the paramedics through. They rushed to the cell of shrieking neighbour and clustered there. Switch could hear the whine of a suicide collar. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as chaos reigned in the next cell. The smell of fear and panic was easily detected in the air as they fought to regain life.

Shreiking patient had tried to commit suicide. Not uncommon for those who had been here for a while.

As she watched them struggle to bring shrieking patient back from the dead, she felt an idea creep up on her. She knew just how she was going to get Shark to talk. It was dangerous and it was going to make her a lot of enemies very quickly, but it was a plan.

The plan required a keycard and by the smell of Boles he was quite a few sips over the limit. He wasn't going to miss a keycard.

Switch's hand deftly reached into Boles' pocket and came out with her prize. The thin plastic went up her sleeve as he shoved her into her cell slightly harder than was strictly necessary and shut the door.

All she needed to do was convince Warren to meet her in Medical and she'd get him to the morgue one way or the other.


	7. the bookie

A/N: Time to put an insane plan into action!

* * *

'C'mon, c'mon.' Switch muttered. She had a ten second window to swipe Boles' card and get out of the sweep of the camera before it saw her.

Finally, the shuddering card swiped through the magnetic lock and the door buzzed open.

The early hours of the morning were the ideal time to move around under the radar. The guards were tired and inattentive, the patrols were always sluggish and the amount of corridor roamers were at a minimum.

She'd never done anything like this. Well, she'd broken out of her cell before, but always with the intent to abscond from Arkham and never return. As she'd suspected, Boles had been too pickled to notice his keycard vanish.

This time, she wasn't going to make for the exit; first, she needed to break into Personal Storage and then meet with Shark.

Oh god, what she was planning was going to make her at least two new enemies, enemies she would normally be unable to afford. She was shaking in terror and adrenaline.

Personal Storage was easy to find and she swiped boles' card through the magnetic lock, but that was only half the battle, this door also came with a keypad.

Four digits, judging by the wear on the numbers; it was hardly going to be difficult. She tried every combination she could fathom with the card until eventually the light flicked to green and the door opened. She memorized the digits in case she needed them later.

Switch slipped into the room and admired the rows of boxes on rows of shelves. The personal effects of every patient admitted was in this room, everything they had on them, right down to the clothes. It was going to take forever to find what she needed. She didn't have forever.

Then she noted the shelves at the back, their boxes were huge and it was easy to see why. They were the effects of the people frequently being dragged back into Arkham and their pockets continually emptied. They were the rogues' boxes.

Harley, Ivy, Croc, Freis. Switch was tempted to just take the iceman's gun, but rumour had it that Freis' guns were calibrated to the man only and anyone foolish enough to touch the freezing metal deserved to have their skin torn off.

Penguin's umbrellas would be of some use, provided she managed to get one that issued knockout gas but that was if. She really couldn't tell the numerous umbrellas apart.

Jokers box was suicide to touch, she knew it. It was packed full of what looked like cherry bombs and blades. Numerous stickers adorned it. Chemical, ammunition, blades, you name it, it's sticker was on there.

She finally found the box she wanted.

This was suicide. She couldn't possibly be thinking of doing this.

_But what other choice do I have?_ She wondered. _Just curl up and wait to die? _

She took a deep breath and then hauled the box from it's space. The flimsy metal shelves wobbled uncertainly and Switch paused when she heard a muffled recording of laughter from Joker's box, but after a few seconds she lowered the box to the floor and opened the lid.

The side was blazoned with a label.

_J. Crane.__** [Warning: Chemicals]**_

At the best, she considered this payback for him gassing her at the start; at the worst, he was going to test her until she broke for this personal violation.

The box was filled with clothes, masks and cans upon cans of toxin.

Wonderful.

'Switch.'

Shark actually met her in Medical, which surprised her. It was 3 am, the guards were all patrolling the other end of the building, the security cameras were mysteriously frozen, and they had a few minutes to talk.

'Shark.'

The mask felt rough against her wrist, stuffed up her sleeve. She had to hope the filter was hardly used otherwise she herself would begin to feel the effects and she really did not want to see toxin Joker again.

'You said it was urgent.' Shark grunted. 'I have things to do.'

She had to give him a chance; just a chance to tell her what was going on. She owed him that much. 'Shark, if I were in the middle of a rogues' game, you would tell me, wouldn't you?'

'Is that what this is about?' He asked.

'So am I?' Switch demanded.

He grinned reassuringly. 'There's no game going on at the minute Switch.'

_Liar._

Now, she really didn't feel sorry about this. She pulled the mask down and into her fist.

'Hey Shark, let's move into the morgue, eh? It'll be quieter.' Switch pointed behind him and he turned to look at the sign. In those few seconds she pulled the mask over her head and readied the canister.

'No. I-'

She sprayed him, straight in the face as he turned back. The mask stank of stale sweat and the material felt rough, but it protected her. She pulled it off as Sharks eyes dilated.

He seemed to be paralysed by the gas, but that wasn't going to last long and then he was probably going to get violent. She grabbed him by the back of his Arkham issue jumpsuit and pushed into the frigid air of the Morgue.

A cooler sat open and ready. She stuffed him in quickly and latched the door shut just as the screaming began. She felt boot being applied to the door as the chill took him back to that moment in Freis' cell.

'No! No Victor! No! It _burns_!'

Switch leant against the steel and breathed.

'Let me out! Let me out _now_!'

Sounded about right. Scared shitless, begging for it to stop. 'Tell me what's going on Warren. Is there a rogue's game in play?'

'Yes!' He screamed. 'It burns! I'm freezing but it burns!'

God damn Crane. This was some potent stuff. She felt a little guilty; she knew what he must have been experiencing but it was a reminder that if not him in there, alive and shrieking, it could be her, dead and silent.

'Who is it Warren?'

'Joker and Riddler!' He wailed. 'Let me out…Let …me…'

'What's the game?'

Warren was sobbing, she could hear him through the steel, but he didn't answer her. 'Warren!' She shouted, her patience, as well as her time, was wearing thin. 'Tell me what the game is!'


	8. Solitary

A/N: Now Switch knows what's going on! Unfortunately, It's not going to help her where she's going. Zsasz cameo!

* * *

'Tell me what the game is, Warren.'

'Cold…so cold…'

'Shark! Concentrate!'

'He wants…to put pressure…on Dead Switch…' He muttered.

'Why is he putting pressure on Dead Switch?' She growled.

'Nigma….Thinks he can change her allegiance ….using Joker's terror…'

Whu- _That_ was why Riddler had gassed her and that was why he'd left the trophy. He wasn't trying to terrify her himself. He was forcing her to relive her worst moments with Joker.

How was that going to make her change sides? _Oh_. Oh he thought if she were that terrified, she'd jump at the chance to get away from him.

'What should she do Shark? How can she survive?'

'Freis…please…'

For the love of-

She kicked open the cooler and dragged him out. He was almost purple with cold and shivering.

'How do I survive this, Shark?!' She shook him roughly. Their time was almost up, she needed to get out.

'Talk to Nigma…'

Now there was a bad idea. She had no desire to fan the flames of this current war.

'What good would that do?!' She screamed.

It seemed the gas was wearing off. Shark was still on the floor, a cold, shivering mess, but he was coming around from his terror.

He was not going to be appreciative of her methods. She had to abandon him without an answer before he regained control of himself. That would only end bloody.

She hurried through the doors of the morgue and practically bolted for her cell. Patrol was due to pass through her wing in forty-five minutes and she needed to be there.

What did Shark mean? Talk to Nigma? Did he think just telling him she didn't want to join a rogue's team would work?

When has that ever worked?

She'd been in the net over the years; she knew how they recruited especially the Blackgate population. Some forceful persuasion was hard to say no to. She'd always been smart enough to get away, never joined a gang.

She wasn't with Jokers crew! Some seemed to think so, however, Joker included.

Fucking hell, what a mess she was in! Was there any way that could guarantee her survival without pissing off a rogue?

Sadly not, it appeared.

With ten minutes to spare, she let herself back into her cell.

It had been trashed.

Everything, torn up. The books, the mirror, the goddamn mattress….

'What?'

A hand reached in and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck. She was hauled out into the corridor.

The acrid smell of warm whiskey washed over her nose. 'You think I didn't notice Deborah?'

'Boles…' She tried hard, but failed to keep the slight warble of fear from her voice.

His hand dived into her pockets and began rummaging; eventually he came up with the pilfered keycard from last night.

'You're not as good a pickpocket as you might think cupcake.'

Oh Jesus, what was he going to do to her? He worked for Joker, she was sure he'd seen some inventive revenge in his time. Probably mopped many of them up. Perhaps even caused a few…

In fact, what he did was pretty tame considering what Switch had been thinking of. 'We've got a runner!' He bellowed and threw her a ways up the corridor.

She managed to stagger to her feet just as the patrol thudded around the corner.

Her face met wall as she was viciously forced into a restraint position and handcuffed.

She swore quietly as she was pulled away to face him. He was feigning seriousness, but she could see the tugs of a smile at his lips. She felt a pang of rage as he smugly instructed them to put her in solitary. 'No need to bother the warden at this hour.' He waved.

_I'm going to get you, you motherf-_

She allowed them to drag her away without fuss; any other way was only going to get her longer in solitary.

That decision paid off, in the end. They were gracious enough to remove the cuffs when she was dumped into her new home for the next few days.

This cell was a lot colder; it was further underground than hers. There was also no external light, at all. Patients in solitary weren't given the niceties of normal everyday things like a window in case that encouraged them to be naughty. This was meant to give them time to reflect. The only things in here were a broken light fixture, a bed, a toilet and a door.

Well the mystery of her trashed cell solved itself quickly and horrifically.

'Hello neighbour.'

Switch paused, her eyes wide. They hadn't given her a cellmate…Had they?

No. This sounded muffled, the voice was familiar though. A high nasally voice. It was a man, she could tell that.

Where had she heard that voice?

Her face shut down.

'Zsasz?!'

'Unfortunately.'

Zsasz was her new neighbour. Switch fought not to have a panic attack there and then. Zsasz was a full blown psychopath. Zsasz was going to be less than five foot from her. It hardly mattered if a wall was there or not. If his voice could float through, it wasn't thick enough.

She clutched at the front of her jumpsuit and wheezed, a cold sweat broke out on her face as she struggled not to puke.

'You're the one they're fighting over I take it?'

What should she do? Should she answer him? Well she already had. 'I suppose.' She choked out.

A happy little hum escaped from next door. 'Would you be interested to know what happened to the last person Nigma and Joker fought over?'

His tone was just way too innocent for her liking. 'I think I can guess.'

'Joker liberated him. Joker doesn't like to lose.'

A pep talk brought to you by Victor Zsasz, first class loony.

Well, she couldn't dig herself a deeper hole now. She might as well ask. 'You placed a bet with Shark then?'

'Oh I don't gamble.' The tone suddenly became much darker.

Ah, she _could_ dig herself a deeper hole.

Switch sank onto the bed and put her head in her hands.

Perhaps it was time to take stock again.

She'd just lost her one friend in this hellhole, made another enemy, Boles had finally discovered his keycard had been pinched, he'd had her sent to solitary and last but by far the worst, her new neighbour was a man almost perpetually in isolation for murdering other patients and carving marks into his skin.

When did her life become such a mess?

The silence was deafening in here. The guards only ever patrolled infrequently this far down. The steel doors were easily two inches thick, no-one shut inside one of these things was getting out of their own free will. But while you have people like Boles, it was still possible to get out.

_The bloody jumpsuit itched. It itched and it smelled like death. Pretty soon, it was going to be cinders._

She was pulled out of her flashback by Zsasz' voice.

'Edward knew you were going to go look for Shark.' His tone had gone back to amusement. It seemed that having someone to talk to was a rare thing for him.

'So how did Joker find out?' She asked.

'Oh, Edward told him.' Zsasz laughed.

_Figures._ She thought glumly.

She rolled onto the bare mattress and curled up.

She couldn't hear shrieking this far down, only Zsasz as he talked away. No pillow, no blanket, no medication.

No hope.

'Do you want to live, zombie?'

'Yes.' She whimpered. Oh yes, she wanted to live. She was too clever to be a casualty of this kind of war.

'Then choose your allegiance.' Zsasz replied.

'What if it's the wrong one?' She knew it was stupid as soon as the words left her mouth.

'You die.' He answered simply.

Switch had good composure, she could seem unfazed by a lot of things, nothing really surprised her in this hellhole anymore but she felt under siege by the things happening and her composure was starting to come under strain.

_What kind of brilliant plan do you have now eh? How else are the denizens of this place going to rob you of your sanity? _

She felt tears pooling under her lids but Switch clamped down on those immediately. She had never cried in sadness since the incident in Daggett Industries and she wasn't going to start up again now.

Things were shitty, yes. She had a setback, certainly. It seemed as though she'd been stitched up pretty damn well. There was nothing for it now. She was going to have to play someone's game.

Shark had told her to go to Nigma, Zsasz told her to make a decision.

She was back to choices.

She never wanted to take sides in a war, but now her hand had been forced.

_Anything but Joker._


	9. Freedom!

A/N: Not happy with this, not at all but I'm sick and tired of staring at it. Have it, I don't want to wrestle with it anymore. Switch finally made a decision! She sold her soul to the Devil. At least, that's what it feels like.

Guards and their Wheel of Fortune. Tch.

* * *

Her punishment for attempted escape was mild at best, she hadn't resisted, she hadn't killed anyone, and she hadn't been trouble. She was given three days and after a brief exam, was certified fit to mingle with the rest of the population again.

Her old cell was still being refurbished after suffering damage she'd been blamed for.

She couldn't rightly tell them she hadn't caused it because she'd been out at the medical wing threatening a rogue with a canister of illegal chemicals acquired from Crane's personal storage.

That would get her solitary for the rest of the year.

She had no idea what happened to Shark or the canister and gas mask she'd left at the morgue.

What she did know, was that by the time she was released, everyone knew what she'd done.

She was surprised Scarecrow hadn't tracked her down to throttle her yet, she supposed her saving grace was the reason she'd had to do it in the first place. Crane wasn't going to get in the way of whatever game Joker and Riddler were fighting.

Switch kept her head down, didn't do any more stupid stunts and made sure she was surrounded by people as often as possible, just in case Crane really didn't care about the game going on.

The cell she'd been temporarily housed in was an older model than her own. These weren't keycard enabled, simply keypad. Some time in the past, someone had carefully chipped away enough of the rusted door to allow an arm to reach out, then they had carefully concealed the opening. It was simply a matter of trying combinations til she found one that worked and her door buzzed open.

Now was the hard part. Getting into Intensive Treatment, where they kept the Rogues. For that, she had a plan.

She stole a pair of scrubs from a supply closet and took a clipboard from the shelf and skipped out into the cold air.

She used Boles' access card to get through the gate that separated the penitentiary from intensive treatment and once again to gain access to the building itself.

Switch had never attempted this in her life, but it was the arse end of the night, the lone guard on watch would be sleepy, his friends out on patrol, the rogues would be asleep. It was the best time.

'I'm here to assess a patient?' She sighed to the on-duty guard.

'At this time of night?' He complained, his eyes never drifting from the portable Tv on the desk.

'Hey, I go where they tell me.' She muttered. She frowned and leaned across the desk to see what he was watching. 'Wheel of Fortune? _Really_?'

'Get out of here!' The guard snarled. 'Before I call a patrol!'

'Geez! Fine.' Switch held up her hands and walked away.

She hid behind the corner and pretended to be looking through forms as she waited.

How long was it going to take for the sleeping pills she'd dropped in his open bottle to work? They'd given her a strong dosage.

She lamented the fact she didn't have a watch. If he hadn't eaten yet, they'd get to work in a little over fifteen minutes.

She was forced to sing/whisper all the way to 900 Mississippi. Her head peeked around the corner and found to her delight, his head was on his chest and he was snoring.

She tiptoed around him and dumped a paperweight onto the access button. The door swung wide and she skittered through it.

Alright, now there was no going back, metaphorically of course. She sincerely hoped she'd be able to get back the way she'd come.

She entered a long corridor filled with cells. Here were the less violent rogues, the psychos and the truly insane. Nigma had to be in one of these. She couldn't imagine him up on the main floor with Freis.

Two-Face, Harley, Hatter…

She stopped abruptly at a door and peered into the cell. The walls all around him were daubed with green question marks. Where he'd gotten the paint she was never going to know-

'Ah, you finally showed up.'

_Don't have a panic attack._ She thought to herself. _Please don't have one now._

'You knew I would be.' She replied bolder than she felt, at least this time the tiny warble of fear was kept from her tone.

'Of course. It was the only logical choice you could make. Joker would kill you in weeks.'

His voice was lilting and cold. She couldn't see much of him from the cell window.

'Incidentally, how did you get past the guard?'

'Sleeping pills.'

A cold chuckle escaped his lips. 'Of course. Jon owes me money.'

Jon? _Jonathan Crane? _

'I suppose you're fixated on how he's going to repay you for borrowing his mask and toxin.' Nigma muttered knowledgeably.

'He isn't, is he? You'd already told him I was going to take it.'

'My, my. You're so much more intelligent than Joker gave you credit for.'

Knowing Joker, he'd probably said that all she was really good for was blowing up. He'd tried it once.

'So you've won the game.' Switch sighed. 'He's going to be furious. I'm going to be dead by next week.'

'Probably.' Nigma laughed happily.

For a minute, she couldn't think of what to do, but then the boiling rage surfaced. Zsasz' high, nasally voice came back to her. _'Oh, Edward told him.'_

What the hell had she thought? That this guy was nice? No. He wasn't. Even compared to Joker he wasn't a saint. He'd gassed her, he'd scared her, and he'd manipulated her. This was stupid to consider.

Switch turned and began to make her way back down the corridor when she heard his voice and paused to listen.

'I can help you take down Daggett Industries.' Nigma muttered. She turned to face him. The silhouette hadn't moved from the bed, one leg swinging over another.

'How?'

'I know of a certain audit.' Nigma's cold voice radiated out into the corridor as she stared at the door, a debate about whether or not to go back raging. 'An unblemished audit of everything. If that were to come into light…'He left the sentence hanging but Switch could already see the outcome. Media outrage, public horror, shame and dismantling of Daggett Industries without as much as a drop of blood.

Everything she ever wanted, well, almost everything. He was dangling it in front of her face like bait to a damn fish.

Part of her wanted to ignore the bait; the majority however, knew that Nigma was probably her best chance of finding anything like that. He could also provide means and method.

Slowly, she retraced her steps until she was in front of his cell door. 'What do you want?' She asked suspiciously.

The leg stopped swinging and he sat up to look at her. 'I instigated this little game.' Nigma smirked. 'Joker likes to brag about his employees, past and present. You caught my attention.'

She didn't understand what the point in telling her all this was, but she let him continue nonetheless.

'You stood out from Joker's usual assortment of dim-witted muscle and typical hangers on. I need someone capable of rubbing more than two brain-cells together. Quite frankly, you fit the bill better than anyone else around here.'

'You're offering me a job?'

'Mmm, yes.' He answered simply and smugly.

She considered asking how he knew about the incident with Daggett Industries and Basil Karlo but then, if it were her, she'd have done her homework too.

Cold blue eyes focused on her. 'Well?'

Was this the right call? What about Joker? He surely wasn't going to take it well and Switch didn't want to be on his bad side.

'Don't concern yourself with Joker.' Nigma smirked. 'I will deal with that.' She could almost swear he knew how to read her mind-

'I don't read minds. I read psych reports.'

Well that explained his answers to questions she hadn't even asked but it was still damn creepy though.

'Then you know what I'm going to say.' Switch muttered.

'Of course. You wouldn't be here if you were going to ally with Joker.'

Switch glanced around surreptitiously. The next patrol was due to pass through here soon. She needed to get out and remove the paperweight from the desk if she had any hope of getting back without being caught. She needed to move soon.

Nigma must have read her body language. 'Go. Check your ceiling periodically.'

What? Oh. The trophy. Would it even be up there? They were almost finished refurbishing. She supposed that was how he communicated inside the asylum.

'Fine.' She muttered unhappily and turned to leave.

As she walked past the sleeping guard and nudged the paperweight off the door controls she had to suppress a shiver.

Why did she feel like she'd sold her soul to the Devil?


	10. Riot part 1

A/N: Nothing's complete without a mini riot. Here's part one. Switch's luck is in the toilet. I really like this one.

* * *

Switch was finally relocated back to her old cell the day after her chat with Nigma. To her utter non-shock, the mattress had obviously been swapped with one from another cell. This one held suspicious brown stains and smelled of mildew. They hadn't replaced the shattered mirror, they'd just taken it and every other broken thing in her cell, whether it was personal or not.

They had four days to fix it and his was all they'd done. Arkham janitors. The laziest people she knew.

She also saw Shark. He looked like hell. Apparently he'd never left medical. Hypothermia and a bad reaction to degraded toxin.

She kinda felt bad, she would have said sorry, she really would have if he hadn't been glaring daggers at her from across the temporary cafeteria.

The temporary cafeteria was little more than some decrepit rooms not at use. They were hardly better than the blackened shell the cafeteria now was, but it just meant Arkham wasn't going to get sued for patient endangerment.

What was even worse, was the food. Arkham's food had never been haute cuisine to start with, but without the big stoves and a good three quarters of the food budget, it was perhaps even worse.

Perhaps it was best if she gave him time to cool down. At least until he stopped murdering her with his eyes.

The canister and mask remained missing.

For a few days, she thought she'd gotten away with it. No-one knew that she'd visited Nigma or that she'd sided with him. It looked as though she'd done the impossible.

Then the riot began.

All riots started over something, even if it was as trivial as being out of chocolate ice-cream, so with the state of food right now, Switch woke to find hell going on all over the island.

She knew quickly that this wasn't a normal riot. Joker had a hand in this somewhere. Anywhere Joker was involved was not safe to be.

She needed to get off island, now.

Unfortunately, her cell required a keycard to unlock it and Boles had taken his keycard back. She was trapped.

'Hello cupcake.'

Speak of the devil. Switch looked up from her bed as he swung the doors wide. Behind him were other inmates, holding makeshift weapons, they waved at her.

'Joker wants a word with you.'

* * *

She was brought to the gutted cafeteria and strapped to a chair with Boles' handcuffs.

They were up on a relatively undamaged part of the third floor, and the wind was whistling around the charred corners. The occasional smell of ash floated past her nose.

'Now just sit tight cupcake.' Boles laughed as she struggled against the restraints. She really hated the term cupcake.

'_Whoo-hoo-hoo!_' She cringed at the infamous laugh. 'If looks could kill, eh Boles?'

The guard took an uneasy step back and Joker came into the moonlight. If her breathing were laden before, just catching a glimpse of the clown prince of crime caused her to lose all sense of control. She began to hyperventilate within seconds.

'_Harley dear, would you leave us?' _

'_Sure thing Mistah J!' _

'_Stealing my thunder eh? Tch. What am I going to do with you now? Ooh, I have the perfect job! I've been looking everywhere for someone just like you. Expendable.'_

_Her boots dragged over the dirt as a thug propelled her along the platform behind Joker. The room was full of clowns; every thug he'd recruited had a painted mask. He commanded silence, but only received it when the loudest was shot. All eyes turned to the clown prince of crime and he gestured to her terrified frame behind him._

'_Boys! Say hello to the dead switch!' _

'At least she looks pleased to see me! How ya doin' Switchy?'

Oh god, this was her worst nightmare. Her worst. She could feel herself become a gibbering wreck.

_What do I do? How am I going to get out of this?_

_Should I try pleading? No. He finds that funny. Should I try changing allegiances? Definitely not, I'd still end up dead here either way. Best stick to my guns. It certainly can't help me right now, but it could save some hurt later. If I survive._

Her mouth opened and closed in some attempt to talk, but she made no sound.

'I guess not.' Joker pouted. 'She works for Eddie now, don't you?' He leaned down towards her.

'Uh…U-uhhh….' She squeaked.

'Made a little deal behind closed doors, didn't we? Tsk.'

Why the hell couldn't she breathe? She was trying hard enough, but it felt like her lungs were closed for business. She didn't know what she could tell him that would make the situation in any way better; she didn't even think there _was_ any way.

He was practically nose to nose with her now, a horrible grin on his lips and a murderous twinkle in his eye. 'Boo.'

Switch really couldn't help the reaction. She screamed at the top of her lungs.

Joker turned to look behind him at the uncomfortable drunk. 'Isn't that just the sweetest sound? I missed that.'

He cackled as he pulled a blade from his jumpsuit. Switch eyed the sharpened metal with well learned fear. He pressed it to her cheek and dragged.

The metal scraped down her face, he was applying just enough pressure to peel a layer of skin as it descended. She tried to strangle the pain, it only ever encouraged the mad clown to keep going, but a whimper wormed it's way through.

'Joker, it isn't polite to torture someone else's minions.'

The knife retracted quickly. 'Eddie! Where _have_ you been?'

Riddler stepped out of the shadows and Switch immediately knew what he'd been doing while she'd been tortured, he'd broken into personal storage and grabbed one of his trademark suits.

He got his damn suit while Joker mentally and physically scarred her.

Joker snapped his fingers at Boles and, with a dark look, Boles pulled his pistol from it's holster and handed it to him. Laughing and cooing, Joker placed the barrel of the gun to her head and Switch felt her chest constrict in anxiety.

'Why d'ya want her so bad Eddie, eh? She's second hand.' Joker waggled her terrified little head.

She was too terrified to even breathe. The gun to her head and the psycho with his finger on the trigger held all her attention.

'There are still some valuable parts to use Joker.'

Oh Jesus that made her feel better.

Joker barked a laugh. 'She's useless.'

'So why are you fighting so hard to keep her?'

'Never been one to share my old toys, Eddie.' Joker laughed. 'Besides, that would mean _losing_.' He waggled her head some more.

She was all set to die. That was it, Joker's trigger finger would do it. He had a notorious trigger finger, he was always itching to press the button or pull the trigger. It couldn't possibly be any worse-

'You've already lost.'

Joker's grin slipped. 'There is that.' He conceded. 'Oh well.'

He pulled the trigger.

For a moment, Switch swore her heart stopped.

'Why isn't this thing firing? I mean the safety's off and- !' Joker turned to look at the security guard.

'Bullets?' Boles played the dumb card. At least he played to his advantage.

He moved behind her and she heard the catch of a gun as the clip released. She also heard the thump it made on the floorboards as it fell.

'It's _so_ hard to find good help these days.' Joker lamented with a laugh which Riddler joined in.

'It is.'

Boles had reached down for the clip; she felt the cloth of his uniform over her fingers. On the way up, something hard and metal was pressed into her hand.

Boles acted like nothing had happened as Switch's fingers played over the thing hidden in her fist.

Suddenly, her heart began to hammer in her chest.

Looking for confirmation, her eyes darted to Riddler, she didn't dare linger on his face too long, but she noticed the smug smirk.

Somehow…_Somehow _He'd persuaded Boles to slip her a handcuff key.

She scrabbled to get it into the lock as Joker loaded bullets into the magazine. It was harder than she'd thought by touch alone but finally, as sweat began to break out on her neck, she felt the key slide in and the handcuffs popped open as she twisted.

_Finally._

'Ah, finally.'

_Oh_ no. Oh _no_! He'd loaded the bullets.

She was terrified, but she had two options, run now and maybe get shot, or stay glued to the chair and definitely get shot.

On the whole, she preferred later.

She bolted from the chair and ran as shots echoed around her. Joker was shouting something, but she was far too terrified to listen. The faster she got away from the mad clown the faster she was safe.

And then there was the other problem. Riddler.

She heard footsteps behind her and to her amazement, Riddler was right behind her. He was actually catching up to her.

In the seconds it had taken her to glance behind, he'd drawn level and grabbed her by the scruff of her jumpsuit.

They'd made it to another corridor of the cafeteria. It was mostly smoke damaged. Every wall, ceiling and floor was covered in ash.

The route was littered with doors. The only light came from a massive window at the very end. Behind them, Joker's screams of irate anger had become Boles shouts of indignation. He was still firing rounds at them as they ran.

Surely, they weren't going to go out of the window…right?

They were three floors up!


End file.
